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We have been binge watching any number of Swedish and Danish mysteries. It is unlike watching Japanese or Chinese shows. The linguistic tonality of these languages don’t resemble the intonations or cadence of English in the slightest bit. Watching French, German or Spanish films allow me some degree of word recognition and give me a sense of comfort in the language. Swedish and Danish, however, are a whole different story. The cadence and tonality of these languages are close enough to English, yet, are totally incomprehensible to me on any level. I would definitely recognize “smörgåsbord” in Swedish or “goddag” (Good Day) in Danish don’t turn up often enough for me to feel any sense of identification for the dialogue being spoken. For some reason, this unsettles me greatly. I suppose I shall search the world-wide-web and start learning these totally foreign languages, at least enough so that I can watch these amazing shows without trying to find a word I recognize and failing completely.

Spending as many hours in the hospital as I did this past year, this was a strange choice to read. The book is well written and documents the killings of a psychopath nurse who never really understands how his actions wreak havoc. Or, did he?

This was a quick read and it could have been because the author has an amazing way of describing everyday things. Like a voice that “sounded exactly like spearmint bubble gum…her voice was…clean and cool, but the laugh was a gum bubble popping.”

The main character is characterized as being on the autism spectrum. She is able to deal with most daily habits and seems to show it when she feels threatened or in dealing with other people. There are some wonderful insights into the behavior of persons who are functional in daily life but still have some of the behaviors that reflect her condition.

A couple of recipes lead her into experiencing the presence of those who have died. They exist when she cooks their dishes and throw information at her that only fits into her reality a little later. It is done in such a fashion that my cynicism simply said “Accept it and move on.”

Who would ever have expected that a simple change in the pronunciation of a word could bring about such confusion. After moving to Minnesota over 35+ years ago, my first trip through the Upper Peninsula of Michigan would surprise the hell out of me. There were signs saying “PASTIES IN FIVE MILES,” ‘GET YOUR PASTIES IN THREE MILES,’ and ‘YOU CAN’T BEAT OUR PASTIES.”

I moved here from Los Angeles, I knew what pasties were since I had, upon occasion, used them myself. Little did I know that the UP was the producer of such dancing accoutrements.

Imagine my surprise when I discovered they were simply a pocket pie filled with meat and vegetables. I should have known. It turns out that Michigan has more statues of Mary in a Bathtub than any other state in the union.

(By the way, the state motto of Michigan is: “If you want to see a nice peninsula, just look around.” It sounds classier in French.)

There are only a limited number of things one can do when one’s foot is broken. With me being the “one” it precludes doing anything outside requiring more than a trip to the mailbox. So, for some reason, I thought going grocery shopping was a good idea. Called my friend Terri, bribed her with a promise of lunch and we were on our way.

I had never been to Valentini’s before and so that was where we headed. On London Road with a nice view of the lake and air conditioned for the one day it hits 80º in our naturally air conditioned city. I had been craving Peppers and Sausage for a while and had, in fact, pulled up a recipe for it online. And there it was, lunch menu, half order, take me away! It was absolutely wonderful. I tried not to sound like Sally in When Harry Met Sally as I fed myself bite after bite of pure heaven. Simply made with sweet Italian sausage, red, green, and yellow peppers, olive oil, garlic, pesto and fresh basil it was the best Italian food I have had since I last ate in the North End of Boston.

I managed to save some for dinner tonight since Terri had tipped me off to the deserts. A beautiful lemon cake topped the meal off perfectly. I had planned on saving some of that, also. While waiting for the check, however, I ended up finishing it off. As I raved to the server how good it all was, she recognized me for what I am, a complete food junkie, and pointed out that Cold Stone Creamery had Lemon Poppy Seed Ice Cream available now.

That was the end of grocery shopping. Recognizing that I was too stuffed to go anywhere that had aisles and that there was sufficient food in the house to make it through until Monday, we hit Cold Stone and headed home. After all I had to clean the refrigerator and figure out food to make it to Monday and plop down and moan about how I ate too much. Really, I can’t recommend this place enough!